


Star Wars The Old Republic: Padawan Perils

by transtomgirl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Space Opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transtomgirl/pseuds/transtomgirl
Summary: Sometimes even a Jedi,a protector of hope and justice in the galaxy,guardian against the threat of Sith tyrants and their Dark Side influence,...yearns to be a regular girl. But what qualifies one as a "regular girl"? Or a Jedi, for that matter? These questions swirl in the head of one Padawan,fresh from harsh training on the forest world of Keshyyyk. But did that training truly prepare her for the harrowing trials to come?...





	1. Just a Jedi

**Author's Note:**

> Later chapters will involve murder investigations. Also, tobacco use warning. Honestly, I could have fit this story into any Old Republic era, but the MMO allows me to depict Force users as common place,an integrated cultural element.

Sometimes even a Jedi,a protector of hope and justice in the galaxy,guardian against the threat of Sith tyrants and their Dark Side influence,...yearns to be a regular girl. But what qualifies one as a "regular girl"? Or a Jedi, for that matter? These questions swirl in the head of one Padawan,fresh from harsh training on the forest world Keshyyyk. But did that training truly prepare her for the harrowing trials to come?...

My name is Krystal Squire,Jedi Padawan. Doesn't sound like a coincidence does it? A squire joining the Jedi Order? That's because it isn't. My family adopted a new surname generations ago,so impressed were my ancestors with the knights of legend. They desperately wanted to be part of that legacy. But the family metachalorean count was not equal to their ambitions. Not a force sensitive among them,for centuries. Even my initial survey came back null. No surprise,that was the family tradition. Life rolled on. I went to every pro-Jedi rally in the galaxy,core to rim. Then back home to Coruscant. Like I said, family tradition.  
But than it happened. My favorite plush bantha,Bark, nearly fell into Capital City traffic. I reached out and caught him. Nothing special, except I didn't catch him with my hands. I used the Force. He just floated back to my anxious 11 year old grasp. My family was ecstatic. Generations of waiting,and they finally had a genuine force sensitive. Turns out, I'm what they call a "flux manifestation". Just a fancy term for the Jedi equivalent of a late bloomer. Way too late,in usual circumstances. But my family had supported the Order for hundreds of years. They practically begged the Masters to accept me,age aside. It helped that civilian enthusiasm for the Jedi was at a low ebb. With hundreds of knights engaging the Sith on all fronts,the legends had become all too real to allot of folks. The Order was stretched thin in more ways than one. Frankly, I wasn't even thinking about all that. My greatest aspiration was to actually kiss a boy. Never got to do that. Guess now I never will.  
Seven years. Seven years of brutal training. No Vandar or Tython for me. I was designated for the escalation track,a program for older initiates who need to play catch up. I got the Sargent. That's what we all called him anyway. A 250 year old wookie named Ror. He was not happy to be working with younglings of any kind, and he let his displeasure be known all over the forests of Kashyyyk. He made me do 250 push ups, just for sneaking a death stick. ... What? It helps me meditate, alright? Not that we meditated very often. Not the Sergeant's style. "Battle is noisy, brutal and unfair. training should be too". That was his adage. We all lived by it. Though just barely. Waterfall jumps. Tree bending. Hunting. Marching. Saber drills. Find the wookie. There's a twist to that last one. The wookie finds you. One time,after being found, I singed his fur with my fusion lighter. That was 500 push ups. Still worth it. Ror was a wookie of discipline. It was that discipline that allowed him to control his own vocal cords so completely,that he became one of few wookies who could speak Galactic Basic. First time tree bending he told us,"This is a precision exercise. Don't use enough energy,the tree won't bend. Use too much, and you will have broken a tree on my homeworld. If you break a tree on my homeworld, I suggest you set a new record for Jedi Speed". Force, I wanted to be anywhere else. Dancing. Going to holopics. Somewhere that I could relax,be treated like the delicate moonflower I am.  
Don't know how, but I survived the Sergeant. Even got picked to be a Padawan. My new master should be arriving any minute now. She used to be Ror's Padawan. We can trade war stories. I grab a quick drink at a local Coruscant cantina. The Last Opera. It's right across from the plaza waypoint I was given. Sunset Juice is my favorite. No one knows that. Why would they? I haven't seen my family in years, and one doesn't make friends while dodging predators on Kashyyyk. We were all too busy surviving. That, and Master Ror didn't encourage us to dwell on the personal.  
I take in the crowd. A crowd that I can never really be part of. I want Coruscant to feel like home again, but something's changed. Then again,the melancholy thought occurs to me, maybe I'm the one who's changed. I was a kid back then. I had different eyes. Both I and Coruscant were less... weary. I look around, with my newly adult senses.  
A dashing pilot comes in,flight helmet tucked under his arm. His shiny red speeder parked outside,he buys a drink for a purple haired socialite in a baby blue gown. His dark hair is just the right amount of tussled and his brown eyes promise mischief. His ebony skin glistens with sweat, and yet he's energetic. She doesn't tell him what to order. Because he already knows. They're lovers meeting for a date. The embrace says it all. The kiss says even more. I bet he knows everything about her. Her favorite music,what makes her laugh or cry,when she wakes up in the morning,and what she likes for breakfast. They're probably going to see a holovid later. I haven't seen a holovid in years. My favorite is The Littlest Bantha. It's a youngling vid about a baby bantha who gets lost in a sandstorm and has to find his way back home. He gets home to his family and friends. He grows up to have baby banthas of his own. I think it's the best. Granted, I haven't seen that many holovids.  
The band is great. They call themselves the Jazz Jawas. It's hopping, wizard dance music. They're taking requests for donations. I reach eagerly into my robes wondering if they know "Planet Electric". Disappointingly,I come up empty. Not a credit to my name. Must have spent the last of my purse on the drink and death sticks. I didn't want a skyhouse apartment or a shiny new speeder. Just a song. I just wanted to hear a song. Something to inspire me.  
Speaking of inspiration,the other patrons have certainly found theirs. All eyes are on the twi'lek at center stage. Even the dashing pilot gives her a glance now and then. She's gorgeous. Perfect green skin and lithe form poking out from underneath a silver, metallic bikini. No one has ever looked at me,the way representatives of about five genders and ten species are looking at her. And why would they? I'm dressed in simple,drab brown robes with my soft,wavy brunette locks tied in a ponytail. The robes are torn and Kashyyk dirt still covers my boots. It's not exactly a fashion statement. The robes, even the saber at my hip, denote me as a Jedi,that's all. A Jedi and nothing else. I light up a death stick, but have to put it out quickly. My senses tell me she's here.  
My new master is also an attention getter, but she's trying not to be. Her glowing form is just as alluring as the dancer's nimble movements,but her robes hide most of it. She's an Angel of Milius Prime,one of Iago's moons. Her butterfly wings just barely portrude out of her robes. Her glistening, porcelain skin is a stark contrast to her humble attire. Knight Triarra Vale. Master Vale to me. She scans the whole room in one sweep of her bright and keen orbs. Scanning for threats. Life of a Jedi. Constant awareness is an occupational requirement. I stand up,"Padawan Krystal Squire, reporting for duty".  
She chuckles. "At ease Padawan,your not on Kashyyyk anymore. I'm Trinarra Vale, your new master. Ror speaks highly of you, and as I'm sure you know, he's not easily impressed".  
I raise an eyebrow. "Master Ror gave me a compliment"?  
"He described you as an utterly adequate recruit, which is the exact same thing he said about me".

"I'm honored. To be honest, I didn't know he liked me".

"Your weren't supposed to. That's his way".

We sit. Master Vale's perfect posture seems to contradict the relaxed gleam in her eyes.

"I'm sorry if I missed our rendezvous Master".

"You didn't. I have a habit of checking around the perimeter and I enjoy poking my head into a cantina,same as you". "Speaking of habits,is that your death stick in the tray there"?

I breath a sigh. "Yes master".

"You didn't lie, that's most important. Even so,a Jedi should treat their body with more respect,my young Padawan".

"Yes master. You said you like cantinas"?  
"They're familiar. I used to work at a cantina,in somewhat the same capacity as she does". Master Vale gestures to the dancer.

"How is that possible"?  
"I was an older initiate. Same age as you were,when Ror brought me to the Order".

"But if you were only 11,how…"

"There are many men in this galaxy who have a fixation with the Angels of Iago. Republic law can't protect slaves on the Rim".

"I'm sorry".

"The Force sent Ror, and for that I am ever grateful. The galaxy is full of sentient beings who are suffering. Commitment to the Light Side means alleviating that suffering where we can".

"Yes Master".

"Speaking of,we have a mission. Three murders have taken place in the Capital and authorities are asking for Jedi assistance. The extreme nature of the crime scenes has led them to believe that Sith might be involved".

"Oh good,an easy warm up mission". My sarcasm is obvious.

"If the mission was an easy one my young Padawan,they wouldn't be asking for our help in the first place. We'll do an analysis of the latest crime scene, proceed from there".

"Yes master".

I take one last look at the cantina before we head out. I'm leaving a hub of lively fun to go stare into death. Sure is great to be a Jedi.

...My sarcasm should be obvious.


	2. Just a Sith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder most foul! Jedi Padawan Krystal Squire and her Knight Master Trinarra Vale are on the case! Fearful whispers throughout Coruscant indicate Sith entanglement. Not wishing to be caught unawares,the Jedi Order prepares for yet another vicious attack on the capital. But there are many forms of entanglement...

Murder most foul! Jedi Padawan Krystal Squire and her Knight Master Trinarra Vale are on the case! Fearful whispers throughout Coruscant indicate Sith entanglement. Not wishing to be caught unawares,the Jedi Order prepares for yet another vicious attack on the capital. But there are many forms of entanglement...

Leaving The Last Opera,The sights are far more sobering then the cantina party within. Rubble and debris. Reminders that neither Jedi nor Sith were intangible legends,but rather corporeal beings who's incredible feats had consequences. In some places,patrols were still putting out fires. One could understand why people wanted an escape,whether via a fast starship or a stiff drink.  
I follow my new master through the winding streets,countless speeders soaring above our heads. I'm surprised when we move past the turns that would take us to District 1313 and the poorer sections of the planet-wide city. We're not going to the slums. We're headed to the skyhouses.  
"This victim was a rich elite"? I ask as we take a final winding street and board an elevator.  
"This victim was murdered. That's our sole concern,Padawan".  
"I only meant that this case could get...complicated".  
Knight Vale is unflappable. "They always do".  
The skyhouse is the very holovid projection of opulence. Shiny as chrome,soft as silk. This had been the home of a once popular singer and entrepreneur. She had been smart. After fading from fame,she had made savvy investments. Her skyhouse was posh and polished. Then we got further in. The scene was horrid. Blood covered the walls and stained many of the silk sheets. No effort had been made to control the splatter. And then there was the body,currently encircled by Republic law enforcement. Yin Dreamseeker had been beautiful once. but now she was cold,her eyes vacant. The possible Sith connection was obvious. Sith runes marred her soft,bare skin. Like a mockery of life itself. I hate myself for needing a death stick. A Republic officer approaches Vale. He is beleaguered,but professional.  
"I've never been so glad to see Jedi". "Officer Joust of Republic law. This is our third victim. All of the scenes have this MO,including the runes".  
"And are all the victims from the skyhouses"? Vale asks.  
"No. The first was some poor kid from 1313. The second was an off duty trooper".  
"Any personal connections"?  
"None. They didn't even know each other. This sad end is all they have in common,Master Jedi".  
"I see. You did well to report this to the Council. Send me all relevant case files. This is now Jedi business".  
"I'll see to the file transfer personally". "Thank you Master Jedi. He nods and turns on his worn boot heels.  
Vale takes some blood samples and we go. This time my Master agrees to take a speeder back. We’re waiting for pick up,when Vale ignites her yellow saber in one swift motion. I follow suit,my pink blade springing to life,as I sense what my Master had already discovered. A Sith was approaching us.  
She wore the black robes typical of her aliegance. But she was unarmed,and had her hands up in a placating gesture. Her red hair is tussled and unkempt. Her movements are quick but careful,like a jungle cat. Her eyes are green and full of mischief. My senses scream out one thing. She’s trouble.  
The Sith speaks. “Stand down Jedi. If I were the killer I would not have lingered here to be caught. Returning to the scene is one thing,never leaving is quite another”.  
My master's tone is commanding and stern. “If you are not the killer,then who are you and why are you here”?  
“I’m Sith Apprentice Ember Adamina Krimson”. “Like you,I’m here to solve a murder”.  
“Sith runes are all over that body. Why would the Sith Empire send an investigator”? “You expect me to believe that the Sith are concerned about these victims”?  
“No,but my Lord Mammon has several business interests on Coruscant and was receiving generous donations from Yin Dreamseeker before the murder. Her death will cost him millions of credits. My Lord guards his pocketbook jealously and would discourage interference with his accounts”.  
I’m incredilous. “She was a traitor to the Republic”? “An exploitative opportunist”?  
Ember shrugs. “She was a capitalist. Credits make the galaxy go round,little Padawan”.  
Vale sighs. “She isn’t wrong about that. I’ve heard rumors that this Darth Mammon owns close to a quarter of Coruscant. The Republic maintains an official government on the surface. But in reality,our capital is a battleground,with many strikes launched from corporate boardrooms”.  
Ember speaks again. “I even investigated the crime scene openly. Your officers aren’t Mammon’s directly,but they know who I represent. No one touches the servant of Mammon. Not here in the capital. I was being polite when I hid from you,Jedi”.  
Vale doesn’t blink. “I’m being polite as well,Sith. Let’s mind our manners”.  
“If we’re still being polite,perhaps we could continue this conversation with the sabers off”?  
“Very well”. Knight Vale extinguishes her saber,as do I.  
“Good,we understand each other. My proposal is that we collaborate on this case. As a gesture of good will,I’ve brought a datapad with all the financial information exchanged between my Lord and Miss Dreamseeker. It’s the freshest lead. You need the information”.  
“As you need our info and investigative resources”. Vale points outs.  
“I’m never truly in need,Jedi. Let’s call this arrangement what it is. Mutual self-interest”.  
Vale thinks for a moment,then nods. Ember produces a datapad from her cloak and slowly hands it over. I’m flabbergasted.  
“So we’re working with a Sith now”?  
“We’re solving a murder”. Vale responds matter of factly. Her glowing angelic eyes scan the datapad.  
The Sith apprentice smiles. “Don’t look so surprised,little Padawan. A billion deals are made per rotation in this galaxy”.  
I let my Master and new collaborator walk ahead of me as we board the speeder,taking the seat in back. I need a death stick.


	3. Bleeding Lips and Carbon Scoring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's true what they say Master,Sith girls are crazy".

I feel the adrenaline surge through me as Gs slam me back into my seat,I feel blood spurt out of my lips as shards of our droid pilot hits me smack in the mouth,I feel the heat of my saber as I ignite the pink blade to block incoming blaster fire. But mostly,I just feel like I should have stayed in the cantina.  
The attackers hadn’t tried to surprise us. they hadn’t tried to be clever. They were bedecked in all the trappings of the Sith,and they’re strategy revolved around killing us with weapons. Not exactly top navy brass these guys,but effective in their own primal way. The speeders they flew weren’t even fancy. Battered and held together by sparking wires,they were as likely to explode as hug a turn. The same was true of the pilots themselves,so hyped on stims I could see their veins as they dove toward us. See? my habit’s not so bad. Tis a galaxy of relative colisions.  
Speaking of colisions,Some bespiked womp rat is headed right for us. Trinarra has taken the wheel of the speeder,switching it to manual control as Ember and I deflect blaster bolts back to their source,disabling the vehicle guns as the Sith punks take up a screaming,fiery chant of “Zanrath Mortis”! “Zanrath Excidia”!  
Ruby red saber in hand,Ember curses between deflects. “I hate when other Sith try to kill me”!  
My own pink blade bounces a bolt into our khamikaze’s engine block. Now adrift in Capital City traffic,he’s reduced to screaming impotently.  
“Does it happen often”?  
“Constantly! we’re a cult of betrayers”!  
“So how do ya deal”?  
“Try to kill them back”! She slices the head off an attacker who tries to close for melee,as if to emphasize the point.  
Knight Vale veers our speeder north to climb above traffic. “Sounds like a vicious cycle Apprentice”!

Carbon scoring from blaster fire half painted our taxi already,it wouldn’t last much longer. Ember looked at me,that sparkle of redhad mischief in her eyes. She pulls a deathstick from her black robes, ignites her saber to light it,takes a long drag. “Someone has to get us outta this,huh Little Padawan”? She takes another drag and hands me the deathstick,”Hold that for me”. Ember turns to Master Vale. “When I dive,start heading for the street. Try to catch me before I stain my favorite black robes”. “Blood never washes well”.  
“What”?! “Are you hyped right now”? “It’s a death circus down there”.  
Ember grins. “Not yet,it isn’t”. She dives like some dark swan,saber still clasped firmly in her gloved hand. It’s ballet. There’s precision,grace,...screaming. So maybe it’s a rock ballet. She takes the tail off the first speeder like she was cutting velvet cake,the pilot doesn’t even know why he’s about to die. He was already screaming,so it’s more lke his voice shifted tones then that it raised in volume. The dial moved from excitement to fear. She took the front end off the next one,executing the cut as a perfect mid-air cartwheel. That pilot knew why he was about to crash and die. I doubt the knowledge was comforting.  
“Don’t drop your saber”! As Ember’s precision plummet continued to shower death upon the cultists,we burned after her,Master Vale gritting her teeth as I try to keep my robe on and my saber in hand.  
Ember takes the last two out at once,pulling a Shoto and switching it hungrily to life. As the short blade breathed,two pilots gasped their final air. A Dual horizontal slice ended up. i didn’t even knw she carried a Shoto. Trixy minx. I’ll have to remember that.  
“It’s true what they say Master,Sith girls are crazy”.  
“Just be ready to catch her. We’re coming around”!  
It took the last thrust in the battered taxi’s engines,but we beat Ember’s descent by a couple meters. She falls into my ready and waiting arms,death stick in my mouth.  
“Falling down on the job,Sith”?  
She winks. “I already fell Jedi”. She finds her feet and holsters her sabers in one swift motion. Slowly,I take a drag of the death stick and hand it back to her. She inhales deeply before saying,”Keep catching me like that and you won’t be a Jedi,Little Padawan”. There’s no malice in the statement. Not even sass. Just a fact,spoken softly.  
Master Vale surveys the damage in an instant. “This speeder’s shot to bantha fodder”.  
The Sith does sass now. “Is that your technical diagnosis Jedi"? “Should I get you a hydrospanner”?  
“Only if it will adjust your attitude,Apprentice”.

For my part,I just inhale deeply,grateful to be breathing any combination of smoke and air.


End file.
